My Weblog

Wedding Help Needed

      

 

Well, it's 2009 and our wedding is just around the corner! I am going to start updating a bit more to talk about...what else...the wedding! I also have some other great stuff coming up in the next few months -- a triathlon for Team In Training (to raise money for leukemia and lymphoma research), an interesting trip for work...stay tuned.

 

But first off, this is a call out to all of the little wedding elves that are helping with the wedding details. Right now, we are trying to get as many vases together for the flowers that will be the centerpieces of each dinner table.

What we're looking for are transluscent vases, different varieties and colors, assorted sizes, something with a vintage and/or antique look and feel. We will definitely return them so please be sure to put your name on the bottom of the vases. We will return them to you within a week after the wedding.

 

I've uploaded a bunch of example pictures in the photo albums to the right -- I've titled it Wedding Vases. If you could please drop them off at my Mom's house, I will forever be appreciative!

 

Additionally, we will be having some international guests coming to the wedding and I'd love to alleviate their already big financial committment. Many of the people I am asking you to house have been superstars of this very blog! :) If you have an extra spare bedroom for Friday, June 19th and Saturday, June 20th, please e-mail me directly at lexthomas@yahoo.com.

 

 

 

 

A Little Light A-Shining Through The Window

 

I have been a somewhat lax blogger this summer and have been meaning to post some things here and there to update you on what I have been doing, but never got around to actually doing it. But here I am, at my laptop again, struggling this time because the words aren’t flowing. My dear, sweet friend Shirley Case was one of the women killed on August 13th in Afghanistan when a group of Taliban members ambushed a car she was traveling in with three other aid workers with the IRC as well as their driver, an Afghan named Aimal. Until this point in time, I have been mulling over the news – shock, disbelief, pain, and anger.

I hesitate to write anything because I don’t want to trivialize a life well lived, a heart so true and a sadness that is deep. I don’t want Shirley to be just another person appearing in the news, and then forgotten. She was so much more than that.

The last time I saw Shirley was at my going away dinner in Aceh. My final day there was filled with sadness but also immense joy. I look back on my time there as some of the happiest times of my life, and Shirley was a large part of that. Although I hadn’t been there long, I had formed such strong connections with people there and had to stop myself from crying several times throughout the day. I didn’t want to step away from the special life experience and lessons and most notably the people I had met throughout my time there.

I had a small going away dinner the night before I left and Martin, Kate, Nina and Shirley all came out to send me off in style. Finding “Western” items in Aceh could sometimes prove a difficult task, which only made the delicious chocolate cake that Shirley conjured up for me all the more special. She was so excited to present it to me, and we all dug in and enjoyed the beautiful night and our shared happiness in finding each other and forming the bonds that we had formed while we were in Aceh.

In her toast to me, Shirley said that I was “One of the most ‘American’ people she had ever known – in all of the best ways possible!” After I posted her quote on my blog the day after I left Aceh, she e-mailed me:

Good morning Alexis,

I hope that this email finds you happy and healthy and hiding out in house 4. that is for sure.

So. You are on your way...it was so nice to have you join in the Banda Aceh scene - even if for such a short time. Will look forward to the next time our paths cross...

What I meant about being American, in a positive way:

- you are so amazingly friendly and curious

- you are so kind and generous.

- so freaking funny.

- so freaking genuine!!!!!!

 Enjoy. Enjoy. Enjoy.

By the way, I sent the link to your blog to my mom, asking her if she wanted to trade me in for a model that writes - and she said that she got very emotional reading your Ibu story - and so, she thanks you, and says that although she is not ready to trade me in, she would like to one day meet you!

Safe travels.

S

As you can tell from the e-mail above, Shirley was always encouraging, unfailingly funny, endlessly sweet, and had a knack for looking at life in the best way possible. I understood her toast, which addressed some of the complexities of being an American abroad, and hadn’t taken offense…but Shirley wanted to make sure that I understood exactly what she meant. That was just the sort of gal she was.

Kate was back last week for Shirley’s memorial service at the IRC and then on to her funeral in British Columbia. It was great to see Kate, but it also made me so sad. Kate was back from Afghanistan over the 4^th of July and I went up to Maine to see her. When I saw Kate again here in NYC, it felt as if years had gone by, not just a month. Kate is the best hugger and when we saw each other, I didn’t want to let her go. I know that Kate loved Shirley so much – we all did – and she had been working in Afghanistan with Shirley since she had come over with the IRC in June.

As Kate and I had lunch, we laughed about our trip together to Takengon when we were all in Indonesia. We had a long weekend and Shirley had arranged for all of us to rent a car and a driver and go to a lake about 8 hours away on twisty, windy roads. Shirley was sick and spent almost the entire trip curled up in a fetal position, chirping in here and there as we all swapped stories, listened to music and watched the beautiful Indonesian countryside pass us by.

Ivana talked about her family back in Serbia and her grandmothers who make the most amazing cheese until all of our mouths were watering, Shirley talked about her love of Canada and her name,  (“only people’s aunts are named Shirley!”) and I’m sure I told a story or two about Nebraska. Shirley and I also found out that we shared a favorite tune: "Summer Breeze." I told a story of how it reminded me of a boy who had broken my heart, and she later confided in me that it reminded her of a boy who had broken hers as well. 

Kate told us about a house for sale near her family’s home in Maine called David’s Folly. She described it as a huge, rustic house on a beautiful part of a lake and lamented that she didn’t have the money to buy it herself. We all fantasized about pooling our money together and buying that house up in Maine. I do believe that was when my big idea for a Fruit Expo – showcasing all of the delicious fruit in the world – came into existence. We all had a good laugh and Shirley was especially encouraging of my “big idea” that would help us raise the money needed to buy the place and call it ours. 

We fantasized about how we would all live together, spend holidays there, take care of the house together, go to far-off places to do aid work and then coming back to relax at the house in Maine. We talked about the parties we would hold there, the swims we would take on the lake, and the big, family-style dinners we would eat together with all of our friends, who would be welcome anytime.

The funny thing is, none of us had even seen the house before but we talked about it as if we already owned it on that sunny day on our drive to Takengon. I fantasized about knowing these people forever, and didn’t see why I wouldn’t. At that time we were all homeless, stateless, visitors in a foreign country and at different points in our life. Our shared vision of David’s Folly brought us together and we all made room for each other in this idealized future, this life not yet lived, a life that couldn’t ever be lived but existed in that car that day.

Shirley spoke of this feeling of community in an e-mail she sent shortly after she arrived in Afghanistan in June. More important than my friendship with Shirley is the work that she did her entire life on behalf of people in need. Her work in Afghanistan focused on inclusive education and ensuring that disabled kids had the right to education there. The e-mail she sent spoke to the heart of what Shirley believed and the work that she did there:

Being here in Afghanistan definitely speaks to the complexity of humanitarianism, politics, security, civil war, religious idealogy...and also speaks to community.  Community in the sense that everyone has their community, communities of all varieties...your colleagues become your community...either people that you have met along the way...or new people that come into your life...and then your work goes to support other communities, in my case the Inclusive Education community, which is embedded in the overall Education community - which then works to reach out to individual villages...with staff being from a variety of backgrounds - on our team, the five Inclusive Education Officers have backgrounds in Engineering, Agriculture and Justice...each person I have met has a story that makes you want to sit down for tea for the afternoon - the adversity they have overcome, their commitment to their country...more to come!

I have to believe that all of the goodness that was Shirley, all of the silliness, all of her wonderment at the world and most of all her desire to help people – through her actions, not just her words – isn’t gone from the world. I have to believe that a light so true can’t be put out. I’m not angry at those men, I’m angry at a world that exists where innocent people are killed.

I carry Shirley with me now, and every day since I had the pleasure of meeting her. She was with me on my final interview last week for the job I was crossing my fingers in hopes of getting and she was there when I found out that I had gotten it. She was there when I tried to be a little nicer to Rusel about leaving dirty dishes in the sink. She was there when I had to make a split-second decision about being nice or rude to someone on the subway, and I decided that Shirley would’ve been kind so I was, too.

She’s here with me always.

I’ll never forget you, Shirls.

 

 

 

 

 

Steve-a-palooza!

Each year, our friend Steve has a birthday, which he very kindly shares his with our dear friend, Meyung. “Yum,” as I like to call her, is one of those friends who gathers people together – when she lived around the corner from me in Brooklyn, she was the one who threw BBQ’s at her pad as soon as the weather was nice enough, Thanksgiving feats, Sunday night dinner parties…..her place was a little haven of people coming together and eating good food. My kinda friend, my kinda place.

This past year, Meyung moved to Boulder and suddenly….June 24^th belonged only to Steve. At my birthday dinner in February, we decided that we would have a celebration…..just for Steve….that would make up for all of the years that he was overlooked, the one day a year that he stood in the wings, just waiting to emerge the star. This was his year.

Stacey, Greg, Tina, Rusel, Steve and I all went together for a one-weekend share on Fire Island. Located about two hours outside of NYC, Fire Island is a special little spot where we have all had house shares together over the years and we decided, in honor of Steve, to do it again this summer.

Because we didn’t have the cash to rent the entire house, we shared it with about five other people, which was a gamble but worked out nicely as the other people were really laid-back and cool. There is a bit of a young, drunk element to Fire Island and luckily nobody in our house leaned in this direction.

Fire Island is a barrier island off the coast of Long Island and the town where we stayed, Ocean Beach, is only accessible by ferry. Cars aren’t allowed in this area, which gives the entire village a quaint vibe. Everyone walks or rides bikes to the beach, to the area that has restaurants and shopping, and back to their homes. Deer roam freely and the place has a nice, small community feel.

We kicked off the weekend on Friday night by BBQ’ing and eating some of Steve’s cake that Tina brought. Rusel and I arrived around 8:30 and as soon as we arrived, we checked out the house. It wasn’t horrible, but it was far from nice. It was clean (enough), but it was really old. There was one small bathroom upstairs for all four extremely small bedrooms, and one bathroom outside with a separate shower.

The four bedrooms were claustrophobically tiny. Each room had a bunk bed and a single bed next to it and just enough room in between the two to walk. Our room brought back memories of the Trans-Siberian train for me -- miniscule with bunk beds. Rusel and I were sharing a room with Steve, but he decided to sleep on the couch downstairs because the room was so small and hot. Oh yeah….Al Gore would be happy – no air conditioners!

I kind of just decided to pretend that we were camping, just a little bit better – and that helped me deal with the conditions. Plus, we were all in it together and that helped. We spent the weekend on the beach, BBQ’ing, playing some extremely intense games of Trivial Pursuit, and laughing. The highlight of the weekend was definitely Stacey’s artistic birdcage creation. We found a birdcage in the back yard and Stacey took our In Touch Magazine and People that we had bought to read on the beach, cut out the celebrities, and put them into the cage. It was pure brilliance and we put it outside our house and watched as people stopped to marvel. It really was hilarious to see people’s reactions – most people got it and one person even clapped

Sunday night came too quickly and Tina and Rusel went back to the city. In Rusel’s place, our friend Liz came out. We met Liz last year in Perth through the lovely Krista, and she was a definite highlight of Australia – we both absolutely loved her. So when she said she was going to be passing through New York on the way to her new home, Vancouver, we insisted that she stay with us. She was truly one of the best houseguests ever. She fell in love with New York City, was happy to go off on her own, and really just soaked up the city. We felt bad about leaving her alone at our pad but we’d been planning Fire Island for months, so she stayed in the city but ended up coming out for one night.

That night, we went to Houser’s, one of the bars in town, and they had a live band there that night called the J. House Band. They were absolutely amazing! They played covers, but really put their own twists on all of the old favorites. When they played La Bamba, towards the end of the night, the entire dance floor turned into one crazy frenzy of insane dance moves. It was one of those unexpectedly amazing nights that only comes along every once in a while, and Liz was such a great dancer. Steve even kicked up his heels the entire night and his dance moves were also dangerous!

The one thing that I will say that is a little bit off-putting about Fire Island is the people there, unfortunately. In most tourist destinations, like Hudson, people are excited about having tourists and go out of their way to make sure that visitors feel at home. Ocean Beach, the village where we usually stay, just doesn’t have this attitude at all. The locals there are extremely unfriendly and the list of town ordinances is long and unnecessary. People can be ticketed for eating on the sidewalk (seriously), there is no food or drink allowed on the beach (causing people to literally hide their snacks as police officers walk by on the beach), no games of catch on the beach, and on our little “street” there was a HUGE sign that said “NO FOOD OR DRINK BEYOND THIS POINT” and someone had gone to the trouble of spray painting a line on the sidewalk to signify where people can and cannot drink. There are police officers everywhere and the town has a slightly militant feel to it. Perhaps it’s because the island is so small and people are very territorial, but in the end it almost ruins the experience.

But in the end, we really did have a great time and it went way too quickly. I took the ferry back on Tuesday night so I can spend some time with Rusel before I leave on Saturday morning to see Kate in Maine. More on that later. Until then, Happy 4^th to everyone!

It's Just Really Nice Here

As a connoisseur of great places to go, I feel compelled to write a bit about our trip to Hudson, NY a few weekends ago. Hudson is absolutely the bomb-diggity and we always have such a great time while we are there and our latest escape from the city was no exception.

The cool thing about Hudson is that it has a great small-town feeling for those of us wishing to escape the hustle and bustle of NYC, but still has some cosmopolitan aspects that save it from being a one-horse town. The main street is filled with antique shop after antique shop after antique shop, each specializing in different periods – with amazing art, furniture, clothing, and knick-knacks. Unfortunately for Rusel and I, it’s all a little bit out of our price range, but still so much fun to look and get ideas.

And once we’re all shopped out on Warren (the main street in town), the city boasts two of our favorite thrift stores – a great local Salvation Army and a Goodwill. For many of you who have coveted Rusel’s ‘N SYNC t-shirt (Krista!), this is where that little gem was purchased a few years ago.

There’s also a spattering of great galleries, in particular the John Davis Gallery.We always make a point of heading in there as soon as we arrive and their shows are usually interesting. The space is the best part, however. He has the main storefront, a basement and then a back building that used to be a mill or something like that but now houses even more art. I told Rusel that once we buy our house in Hudson, we will become friends with the gallery owner and he can hang some of Rusel’s stuff (if he’s not too big by then).

We always stay at the Country Squire Bed and Breakfast, with Paul at the helm. He’s a super sweet and nice guy and the rooms are impeccably decorated and always clean. It never fails that at breakfast in the morning, served family-style on a big, antique table in the dining room area, that we meet other interesting folks. Paul usually sits with the guests as well and tells them about things to do in town, the book that he is working on, or local gossip.

Once we’ve worn ourselves out in town (which, to be honest, takes a while because there's so much to see and do) and are itching for some green, we usually drive out into the lush countryside that surrounds the small town and go on a hike, or just drive around and take pictures (Rusel), or pick flowers (me).  If we’re feeling ambitious, we cross the Hudson River, which lies to the west of town, and head up into the Catskill Mountains. So gorgeous!

The cool thing about Hudson, and the American Northeast in general, is that there is so much history everywhere. It’s fun to imagine all of the wealthy New York City socialites heading up to their Hudson River estates for the summer back in the day. Although the area has had its ups and downs economically, it is definitely experiencing an “up” time as a tourist destination. I particularly love that so many people have bought homes in Hudson and are restoring them…and of course, I have my eye on a few for when we hit it big.

 Another cool thing I was able to learn about before we went up was this amazing blog about Hudson: The 12534. (Thanks, John!)  Rusel and I usually roll into town without a plan and not really knowing what events are going on, so it’s good to have a place to go to find out what is happening. The town is so vibrant and filled with artists, ex-city people, longtime residents….just a cool mix of my sort of peeps.

Our trip was over way too soon and back to the city we drove, which is only about two hours depending on traffic and depending on whether or not you get an emergency phone call from work and need to speed home and get pulled over for a ticket (Rusel). Hey, I thought that there were no emergencies in advertising?

Regardless, we were pretty much on our way home anyway so it wasn’t too big of a deal and the officer was pretty nice as he wrote out the ticket. If you don’t have a car, a train goes there directly if you live in New York City. It's also a short hike from Boston as well.  Highly recommended to head up to Hudson, although in some ways we feel as if it is our little secret….so don’t tell too many people, okay? 

Bye Bye, B61!

It’s been a pretty fun spring and summer in that every one of my family members has been out to see my new digs and visit. When I first moved to NYC and got my own place it seemed as if friends and family came out of the woodwork to visit -- which was great --but then the influx of visitors died down for a few years.  This past week, Rusel and I were honored to have my brother, Christopher, and his son, Duke, visit us from Hawaii.

They took to the city like fish to water and I even commented to Duke, when he pushed through a crowd of people while we were racing to catch a train, that he was one step away from being a “true” New Yorker. Although Hawaii and New York are about as far apart as you can get, both physically and in almost every other sense, the kid is fearless and fit right in.

I hadn’t seen Duke in about a year and a half and he’s grown quite a bit – he’s all of four years old now (five in September). His full name is Steven Duke Thomas, after my Dad, and he is on his way to be just as big of a Yankees fan as my Dad was. He knows all of the player’s names and they went to three games in the four days that they were here. We caught a game with them on Sunday against the Kansas City Royals and the Yankees won – whoo hoo!

Duke plays a mean game of the card game War, uses the word "actually" quite liberally (sometimes fitting it into a sentence three or four times), has a knack for celebrating joyously when he wins at any of the several games that he loves to play and negotiating for a "tie" when he doesn't. He's super sweet and sensitive and smart and was so much fun to be around. 

It was fun to see my city through a kid’s eyes and it was also fun to see how people react to kids here in the city. Normally here, everyone has their guard up as a defense mechanism, but kids seem to break through the barrier. Or maybe it’s just that Duke is so damn cute. People gave their seats up for him on the subway, he was able to “trade in” his half-eaten frozen lemonade for a new one at the game just by asking, and in general people just seemed to look out for him. It was really nice.

The funniest moments were definitely spent trying to catch the bus near our house. We live in a nice part of Brooklyn with the only major downfall being that to get to either main subway line from our apartment you need to catch the B61 bus (the bane of my existence), or bike or walk to the subway. Because the bus is annoying and never on time, I usually just ride my bike to the subway, where it is only one stop in on either the L train or the 7 train into Manhattan. It is just far enough away that you can’t really walk it very quickly (about 20 minutes by foot). With Duke and Christopher here, we relied on the bus because they obviously didn’t have bikes. One day, we waited for about 25 minutes for the damn bus, which wasn’t running on schedule as usual. Ultimately, we had to take a cab to the subway because Christopher and Duke were going to be late for their first Yankees game.

The next day, we were walking down the street as we saw the bus go by at the end of the street. “Bye, bye, B61!” Christopher said right before I shouted to everyone, “RUN!” Little Duke, Christopher, Rusel and I booked it three blocks to catch the bus, which was stalled at a red light (thankfully). Duke ran so fast “his eyeballs almost popped out” and was able to hold onto his beloved Yankees ball that they had bought at the game the night before. We all high-fived each other as we got on the bus and jumped on the subway and went into the city to the American Museum of Natural History. It was so much fun.

The city turned scorching overnight on Saturday and it has been really really hot here ever since. They both handled the heat just fine and Rusel and I – and everyone else in the city – is now trying to move as little as possible to stay cool. It’s definitely “disgusting” hot at the moment.

It was hard to say goodbye to them when they left early this morning. Duke is flying to Nebraska to spend the next couple of weeks with various friends and family and Christopher is staying a day or two before he heads back to Hawaii. Like I said, it was great to see both of them and I’m so glad that they made the trek. 

On the Road Again

My Dad was a big Willie Nelson fan, and every time I hear one of his songs it makes me smile – or tear up, depending on the moment and the tune.

Even writing the above words make me take pause; Willie’s signature song was one of the medleys on the 8-track that my parents inserted into the dashboard player as we pulled out of the driveway of our house in York, Nebraska on our way to various destinations: Grandma Thomas’ house in Clay Center, Grandma Reins’ farm in Platte Center, the tiny lakeside family cabin that would later be dubbed the “White Trash Bed & Breakfast” by my college friends near Duncan, Nebraska.

Sometimes it was beyond the one-hour destination and we would push past the flat cornfields and rolling green hills of Nebraska. One summer we drove to Disneyland in California; we stayed at a cheap motel across the street from the theme park called “The Jolly Rancher.” I forgot my swimsuit there when we left and when my Mom called later, it was gone. I can still remember the small boxy room that we slept in overnight and how exciting it was to be there – Whitney, Paige and I in the extra double next to my parents’ bed, Christopher in the cot with wheels on the bottom that we borrowed from the front desk. As I lay in bed next to my sisters, I could hear each person slowly drop off to sleep in the darkness until it was just me, awake. I was the sole conscious person in my family, staring at the ceiling, all of us together yet separated by darkness and dreams.

As white rectangle after white rectangle painted on the highway disappeared below our big, barreling blue van and became lost behind us to the openness of the great American West, Christopher, Whitney, Paige and I fought over the back seat (prime real estate because the seat came down and folded into a bed) and also the one hand-held video game that we owned that played Donkey Kong over and over again. I remember that the song of the summer was “Puttin’ On The Ritz;” we heard it over and over again on the radio as I fantasized about being one of the “Well to do…up and down Park Avenue.”

These road trips—no matter how short or long – became magical, exciting times when it was just our family in the big, glorious world.  All rules were off and the lure of new and exciting adventures called us. At home, my father’s schedule as a doctor in our small town required much of his time; my memories of him in the confines of our house are limited and oftentimes unhappy. But on the road, my Dad became looser, happier. He told jokes, played his 8-tracks, laughed and became a different person that we almost didn’t recognize. Perhaps the weight of his responsibilities in our hometown overwhelmed him and the best way to escape them was to hit the road – with four kids and a wife in tow.

It was when we were in San Francisco on a trip one year – perhaps I was twelve – that I looked at my Dad, his hair blowing in the wind as we stood on a pier at Fisherman’s Wharf, that I saw flecks of gray in his cobalt black hair. At home I never really studied my father, he was always at a distance, exhausted by the days’ work and then again by the oftentimes tumultuous state of affairs at home with four rambunctious and complex children at various stages of rebellion, anger, antipathy and rage. We were like weeds that had sprung up overnight, choking the seemingly beautiful portrait of our family my parents wished to paint.  But standing next to my Dad that day and noticing that the tips of his hair were turning gray, my first thought was, “My Dad is going to die one day.”  It wasn’t so much as a prediction of when and where and how as it was a startling fact of life that I had to accept.  The slight change in the color of his hair was a startling discovery that my dad was human and mortal and honestly, up until that point, I’m not sure that I was even aware of that fact. He was the man who saved lives, delivered babies, earned reverence and appeared unpredictably in and out of our lives.

But my adolescent prediction proved true too soon, my father died 8 years ago at the age of 55 of a seemingly random and senseless disease: acute myologenous leukemia. He died eight years ago today, leaving complex and cumbersome emotions in his wake.  He also, obviously, left quite a strong genetic link between he and I: a shared wanderlust, a desire to go out, connect, move, be.

My father passed this genetic gift onto me and I like to take credit for passing it along to Rusel. Our around-the-world trip last year brought us closer together and made us a team. I’ve also spent the last two weeks traveling – first to Colorado to see my sister and Meyung and then up to Hudson with Rusel. I relish the feeling of movement, the idea that tomorrow could be completely different than today. It’s a blessing; it’s a curse. I often wonder if I can manage it the way that my father did, in so many ways he did such a better job than I am doing at it. A pillar of our small community, his funeral was overflowing and enough good words about him couldn’t be said. He connected with people and in turn he earned their respect. In the vastness and anonymity of New York City it is difficult to make connections and harder still to take the time to make a difference in anyone’s lives.

But to understand the man, you had to look beyond Nebraska – to the person on a road trip in Mexico with his best friend, Larry; to the man in the Yankees cap watching his favorite team compete in the Bronx; to the man who held my little sister, Whitney, on his shoulders in London so she could get a better glimpse of the Pope passing by in the Pope-mobile. He worked hard and played hard and I oftentimes wonder if he didn’t somehow know that he had to fit everything in as quickly as possible; that his bone marrow would one day start pumping out the wrong message; that his days on earth were numbered so he’d better see as much of it as possible while he could.

Heartbreakingly, I remember the look in his eyes at the hospital one day as we all rallied around him. It wasn’t fear. It was sadness. He knew; we couldn’t accept. Perhaps he saw the road in front of him, a different road than the one we had traveled so often that criss-crossed here and there to various points of the world. A new path that we ultimately had to accept was his and hopefully one just as exciting as our shared travels as a family.

Thanks, Dad. I’m thinking of you today.

 

The Graduate

Oh my, so much has happened in the last few weeks…where to begin?

I spent the first two weeks of May hibernating in the apartment in various stages of writing, researching, crying, hair-pulling, power-pointing, stressing, procrastinating, printing, proofreading, crying some more, annoying Rusel about all of the above, sitting in the windowsill staring at people outside on the street who didn’t have to do any of the above, and finally finishing my three final papers and one huge presentation to finish grad school. Without my trusty library partner, Liz, it was even more of a challenge to finish everything up. 

And then, it was over. I slipped my final final paper under my fave professor's door (Barry Salmon, you're the best) on Wednesday, May 14^th and then my Mom and her friend Raynelda arrived into the city on Thursday, May 15^th. They had spent a few days up in Connecticut with the lovely and quite special family friends the Wankera’s, who then drove them down to their hotel in Brooklyn near my house.

On Thursday, there was a special ceremony for my department (Graduate Program International Affairs), the media department, and the writing department at the New School. It was at a gorgeous, huge church on Fifth Avenue. It felt good to have Rusel and my Mom and her friend there. They called out my name and I got my “diploma” (not the real deal until the final grades are in) and it felt good to shake hands with various faculty standing up in the front, ready to congratulate us. I sat by my good friend, Jim, who was my partner on my practicum project.

The next day was the graduation ceremony. It was great, and I had to wipe a tear away as I walked into the huge auditorium at Madison Square Gardens in my cap and gown. At times, I can’t believe I actually did it – I now have my Master’s! It feels so good and like such an accomplishment and having my Mom and Rusel – two of my favorite people in the world and my biggest cheerleaders through the whole three years – there to cheer me on one final time.

One thing that I kind of forgot about because I deal with it every day and live in New York City is just how liberal the New School is. It is the liberalist of the liberal, and many of the speakers said some harsh things about the Bush administration and America in general. It didn’t bother me at all – because I am so liberal – but I think that both Raynelda (my Mom’s friend from Nebraska who came with her) as well as my Mom both did a slight double-take at the cheers when it was mentioned that the Bush administration was almost over (yeah!) and some slightly anti-American statements were made (no cheering, but general head-nodding amongst students). In a way, I was so proud to be a part of the students there who definitely have some pretty leftist ideas about Bush in particular; having said that, I didn’t really want my Mom and her friend to be uncomfortable.

Soon, we were leaving Madison Square Gardens for home (with some contraband balloons that my Mom stole from the reception area in tow) and we were greeted by a rainy, dreary Manhattan.  Yucky, icky rain and of course, no available cabs in sight. We decided to brave the NYC subway system and it was fun to hear all of the congratulations and well-wishes from perfect strangers (I still had on my cap and gown). Two subways and a cab ride later, we were home in Greenpoint. I was worried that none of my friends would show up for our big party that night, but my worries were totally unwarranted and a great time was had by all. My Mom brought a "party in a suitcase" which was -- literally -- a party in a suitcase. Yummy Nebraska/Mid-west specialties were unpacked, one by one, and promptly consumed by me and my friends. It was so much fun. 

The rest of the weekend was spent with my Mom and Raynelda, seeing the sights of NYC. They left on Sunday, and on Tuesday I flew out to Denver to spend about ten days with my fabulous and amazing sister, Paige. The schedule was pretty jam-packed: eating the delicious cupcakes at my cousin Sara’s cupcake bakery, Happy Cakes, hanging with my sister Paige’s friend Sara and her husband and their kids, hanging with some high school friends, having lunch with Rusel's sister and her beautiful baby Denia at Rusel's favorite Denver Mexican joint, Benny's, and then going up to Boulder to hang with Meyung, who is studying at the Naropa Institute there. Then, Meyung, Paige and I drove up to my parent’s timeshare in Vail and spent Memorial Day weekend there. It was great….although I missed Rusel, it was nice to be in the outside rather than holed up in Greenpoint….and you know what they say about absence and the heart and something about fondness?

After a week in Vail (I know, how lucky am I?) playing croquet, sipping sangria, watching great movies (This Is Spinal Tap (Shit Sandwich!), The Godfather II (how could Michael do that to his own brother?) and Across the Universe (Julie Taymor, I absolutely heart you)), and consuming my first post-graduate school strictly-for-pleasure book (Tales of a Female Nomad -- loves loves loves it! Thanks for the great lend, Meyung!) we are back in Denver tonight and I fly out tomorrow. Spending time with Paige was just what I needed and it was great to chill with her in the mountains. It was also really nice to not have e-mail for a week but it’s nice to be connected again, as well. And I was able to check my final grades online…and that’s right – straight A’s! It feels great to end on such a high note and I’m especially happy to have earned such great grades in light of the fact that I took some pretty tough courses and was working half the semester as well.

I’m flying back to NYC tomorrow and then Rusel and I are away for a few days to our fave place (okay, one of our fave places!), Hudson, NY. Then it’s back to NYC to find myself a job!

Any ideas? 

Baby!

On Sunday we threw a little baby shower for the cutest parents-to-be ever, Adam and Andrea. It was a bit of a race to the finish for us because it was our deadline to have everything done at the apartment. We were up until about 3 a.m. on Friday night finishing up projects – it was a good thing that we started when we did, because every project we had planned was missing a crucial element: we didn’t have the right drill bit to hang the mirror (very heavy and needed one of those special screws that expands in the wall), Rusel forgot to get enough boards for all of the tree pictures to hang above the couch, etc. etc.

But we ended up getting it all done and by Sunday at 2:00 we were still talking to each other, the apartment looked great and we were ready to party.

I’ve posted pictures to the right to give you an idea of the event, which ended up being a really great time. My Mom had been to a shower where they decorated baby onesies and so we stole the idea and that was our activity. It was appropriate because Adam and Andrea are extremely creative people and so are all of their (our) friends. Each year they have a pumpkin decorating party/contest and this seemed like a fun extension of that idea.

As predicted, people really went above and beyond with their designs. One thing I didn’t anticipate was that people would really be into using the needles and sewing, and all I had was three or four needles. Maybe because I have no idea how to sew freehand, I assumed nobody else did either. But the needles were in high demand and some really cool onesies resulted. Amazing things were done with iron-ons, puffy paint and buttons as well.

Jess cooked the most fantastic desserts ever (thanks Jess! And check out her blog here) and I made some good, old-fashioned Midwestern staples. You can take the girl out of the Midwest…..you get the point. All in all, it was a really fun day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and we were all able to share in the fun and excitement of having a new baby boy in the ‘hood.

P.S. And of course, Rusel made the amazing invite that you see above. Go, R!

Captain Poop-a-Licious

Rusel and I traveled home to Nebraska for Easter and we had such a great time. I've uploaded a bunch of pictures to the right to illustrate all of the fun we had.

There were many highlights of the trip -- hearing Rusel teach Thomas all of the ways to creatively use the word "Poop" and watching Whitney shoot him dirty looks just being one of them. Jude and Thomas are growing up to be really cute, sweet boys and we had a great time with both of them.

Another highlight was Friday night. My best friend from high school, Angie, was meeting us down at the one and only hotspot in York, Nebraska: The Chances "R." Well, Ang had secretly arranged a little surprise get-together of a bunch of friends from the good old days. Cindy, Maggie, Bob Wiley, Kim Klone, Melanie Scheve, Ang and Aaron all came out. My roommate from college, Jim, also trekked to York from Lincoln. Seeing everyone together made me cry. It was such a fun night.

I won't go into too much detail about all of the shenanigans and stories that were told, but I must say that it was one of the most fun nights I've had in as long as I can remember. Having Rusel there was nice because it was a lot of my worlds colliding -- high school, college, New York......it's hard to believe, sometimes, that I graduated from high school 15 years ago.

On Saturday we celebrated my Grandma's birthday. That was so much fun, too, although I was really wishing I hadn't stayed out until 4:00 a.m. the night before telling stories and having fun. My Mom cooked a Nebraska-style feast and we all dug in. The funniest part was when Grandma -- who turned 85 -- was about to blow out the candles on her cake and little Jude beat her to it. You've got to be faster than that, Grandma!

Thanks to all of the people who made this trip to Nebraska such a special one. Oh, and I also was able to fit in a quick visit with my dear friend Jennifer (Hathoot) Rogers in Omaha before Rusel flew in on Thursday night. I must say that was a great time as well.

And that's why they call it "The Good Life."

Neene Takes Manhattan

My “little sister” Whitney came to NYC this weekend with her friends Kelly, Tara and a new friend named Robin. It was great to hang out with Whitney and her friends. Whenever Neener and I usually hang out, it’s with the entire family (my Mom, kids, etc.) and while that is really nice as well, it’s good to have some one on one time, too.

We all went to a piano bar called “Don’t Tell Mama” on Friday night and that was pretty funny. It was great for me to go out in the city and do some “New York” stuff because I’ve been a bit of a hermit lately, with school and work and winter hibernation/nesting issues going on.

Friday night was fun but Saturday night was the real adventure. We met up at Lucky Cheng’s for dinner. Lucky Cheng’s is this institution in the east village and all of the servers are actually transvestites. It’s one of those places that you go to when you first get to the city, so I hadn’t actually been there in years. The last time I went, I was singled out by one of the servers/performers and my ex-boyfriend, Kenny, was forced to eat whipped cream off my stomach while everyone stood around and hollered. It was mortifying, so I guess that explains why I haven’t been back in a while!

The food is pretty horrible and the place is a circus but it’s probably worth it just for the entertainment. There was this one very large, black transvestite who did lap dances that was especially entertaining. Words seriously cannot describe the show that she put on multiple times. It was totally embarrassing to the poor victims and we all quickly agreed not to do that to each other – thank God! Usually it’s me going through these horrible ordeals while other people laugh and think it’s funny (see above).

The funniest part of the entire night was the people one table over. The place is basically packed with bachelorette parties and birthday groups. The table next to us had a girl who didn’t look much older than 16, a bunch of other people, and then an older grandma with a shock of white hair. I was totally embarrassed for the grandma half the time, because the things that the transvestites were doing during their shows and the lap dances made even me blush.

A little bit before we left, we looked over and noticed the 16 year old puking in a bucket. That was funny/sad enough, but then the table paid for the large, black transvestite to do a lap dance on the older grandma. It was like a bad car accident – I wanted to look away but I just couldn’t. I seriously thought that grandma was going to have a heart attack or get hurt because the lap dance/show was pretty physical.

After Lucky Cheng’s, our friend Seth met up with us and we went to Winnie's, a karaoke joint downtown. It used to be quite the spot, but its day is definitely done. I will never go back there – the drinks were overpriced and the karaoke machine was hardly turned up at all. To add insult to injury, it was a two-hour wait for karaoke, which was disappointing because Tara has a beautiful voice and we really wanted to hear her sing.

So off we went to a dance club in the East Village – Lit. It was fun to dance and the crowd was good.

On Sunday, we all met up again for brunch at Odeon. My friend Roger met up with us, thereby completing his goal to meet everyone in my family! Roger really liked Whitney and that was fun because now Rog is officially a member of the family. My friend Meredith and a friend of hers, Marcus, met up with us for brunch, which was fun because I felt a lot of worlds colliding. It was a nice brunch and I have to say that the service at Odeon was really great, as well as the food.

We had just enough time to walk down to Ground Zero, which made me really sad. I haven’t been down there in so long and yesterday I was reminded why. It’s pretty disgusting to me all of the political wrangling that has gone on down there and that a memorial isn’t even built yet – just because of politics and money.

I took the girls down to Wall Street and then Battery Park and then Neener and I jumped in a cab and I showed her our “new” apartment. That was fun because I’ve never really had a nice place in the city to show off. Thompson St. was great but more of a novelty, and my apartment with April…well, we all know how that ended. And my studio in Prospect Heights was cute but so small. This place is really starting to feel so homey and it was nice to show Neener.

Today I am working on school stuff and work stuff and then tomorrow I fly with Neener to Kansas City and then on Wed. we are driving to York for the weekend and my Grandma Babe’s birthday on Sat. I’ll probably update then!